Chapter 6: Hogwarts Year (2)

Finally, gently but firmly, Pandora calmed Luna and softly pulled her aside. Ludwig stepped back towards the platform wall leading to the train tracks, then turned once more.

Luna still stood in her mother's embrace, her eyes red, but gazing at her brother with an unspoken hope and longing.

Ludwig gave a brief wave—and a smile full of promise—before disappearing behind the brickwork, merging back into the world of Hogwarts that awaited him.

The Hogwarts Express sped steadily along the tracks, leaving the hustle and bustle of London behind and carrying hundreds of students back to the old castle shrouded in winter mist. Inside one of the warm compartments, Ludwig sat leaning back in his seat, gazing at the gray sky outside the window while fiddling with a card in his hand—a character card from his homemade collection that was now showing signs of wear from too much testing.

Charlie sat opposite him, biting into a chocolate frog, his eyes narrowed, observing the card in Ludwig's hand. After a moment of silence, he leaned back in his seat and casually asked, "So, during the holidays... did you manage to make the game board?"

Ludwig shook his head slowly, his expression slightly downcast. "Not yet," he answered honestly, looking at the card in his hand as if searching for an elusive answer. "I've tried countless times. The theory is clear, but the practice... it's much harder than I imagined."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, "What's making it difficult?"

Ludwig took a slow breath. "The core material. I haven't been able to find a material stable enough to be the board's core. It needs to be able to channel magical energy without cracking or melting due to resonance. But the hardest part..." He paused, twirling the card in his hand, "...is how to make the characters on the cards truly manifest. I want them to appear as if in a real duel. Not just static images. If that's not achieved, the game won't feel alive."

Charlie was silent for a moment, weighing his thoughts. "You'll need high-level magic for that."

"Exactly," Ludwig continued, his voice now lower and full of determination, "this school year, I need to delve deeper into alchemy. I feel the answer is there. Transmutation theory, the fusion of magic-elements, perhaps even arcanic imprints... all could be keys. But I still need time."

Charlie clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly. "If anyone can make all that a reality, it's you, Ludwig."

Ludwig turned, giving a small smile. "Thanks, Charlie. I won't stop until these cards can truly come alive."

Hogwarts once again bustled with students after the winter holiday, but for Ludwig, his mind remained focused on one thing—his imperfect board game. Every night he revisited alchemy theories from Dumbledore's borrowed books, trying to connect magical logic with the game structure he had created. Yet, beneath it all, one idea persisted in his mind—a mysterious place he had once seen in an old film, which now lived only as a faint fragment in his memory.

The Room of Requirement. A room that only appears when someone desperately needs it. A place that adapts itself to the seeker's deepest intention.

That night, Ludwig slipped out of the Gryffindor common room and approached Charlie, who was reading in a corner. He whispered an invitation, quickly and quietly. "I know a place that might have ancient alchemy books... or even lost magical artifacts. But we have to search for it secretly."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "What kind of place?"

"The Room of Requirement," Ludwig replied succinctly.

They left together, traversing the dark corridors with slow, cautious steps, avoiding the sharp eyes of Filch and Mrs. Norris. After climbing to the seventh floor, they stopped in a long, deserted corridor, in front of a large tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to ballet dance.

"This is it," Ludwig whispered. "I'm sure this is the place."

Charlie looked at the tapestry skeptically, but followed as Ludwig began pacing back and forth in front of the wall opposite the tapestry.

"Three times... and you have to focus on what you need," Ludwig whispered to himself, holding his breath.

In his heart, he silently wished: I need a room that holds the oldest alchemy books... a place to perfect my magical board game... and that cannot be found by anyone but us.

The third pace was completed. Instantly, a large stone door appeared out of nowhere on the previously plain wall.

Charlie swallowed. "You... you're really serious."

Ludwig stared at the doorknob for a moment before slowly turning it. The door opened, and both stepped into the room that only appeared when needed—a secret place not even on any map.

Silently, their footsteps echoed as they entered the room, the large stone door closing softly behind them, as if swallowing their presence from the outside world. The scent of old dust, book leather, and rusted metal immediately filled the air. The room was vast, much larger than it appeared from the outside—its walls disappeared into dark shadows, and before them lay mounds of objects seemingly collected from various eras.

Tall wooden shelves loomed, some toppled, laden with thick, yellowed books. There were broken tables, partly burned chairs, old trunks, magical chests secured with chains, and in the corners of the room, a faint shimmer from valuable objects half-buried among piles of goods.

Charlie turned to Ludwig, his eyes wide. "How did you know this place existed?" he whispered, as if afraid the room itself could hear.

Ludwig didn't answer immediately. He looked around the room with a profound gaze—as if an inexplicable déjà vu shook his mind.

"For some reason... I've seen this place in my dreams," he finally answered, softly. His voice was heavy, floating in the damp, secret-filled air. He looked down, pretending to avert his gaze, hiding a truth no one should know.

Charlie said nothing more, only swallowed and slowly stepped through the piles.

Meanwhile, Ludwig began to explore the room with enthusiasm. His eyes searched for one thing: alchemy books. He opened old trunks, moved debris from broken tables, and even shifted a rolled-up rug in the corner of the room.

Behind one leaning shelf, he found a heavy wooden chest with ancient magical circles carved on its front. With a little effort, he opened the lid—and his smile widened as he saw the contents: stacks of leather-bound books, dusty but intact, with alchemy symbols etched on their spines.

"Here it is..." he murmured. He touched them one by one, carefully turning the first page. Handwritten notes, transmutation diagrams, and theories of magical energy filled the pages.

Around them, the room felt like a museum of forgotten magical relics—full of chaos and wonder. Ludwig knew he had found a gold mine. But this was just the beginning.

From the first day he stepped into the Room of Requirement, Ludwig Lovegood's world began to change slowly but surely. He was no longer just a new student with a wild imagination and cards featuring fairy tale characters; from that moment on, he had solidified one goal within himself—to unite magic and game, dream and reality, in a form the wizarding world had never seen before.

Days passed quickly, and time seemed to flow without pause. Between Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms classes, Ludwig always set aside time to study alchemy. The books he borrowed from Dumbledore became his first foundation—basic transmutation theory, the law of conservation of magical energy, elemental symbols, and magical catalysts.

But when he began studying the old books he found in the Room of Requirement, everything changed. These books were not merely introductory texts—they were ancient manuscripts, mostly handwritten, with often unrecognizable language and diagrams, yet full of power. Within them, Ludwig discovered the thoughts of alchemists long lost from the official history of the wizarding world.

There was one book, jet-black leather-bound and sealed with a broken red wax seal, that held his attention for a long time. Inside, concepts about the fusion of cursed materials and pure magical energy to manifest non-living objects into semi-conscious forms were written.

That... could be the key to realizing the card dueling game he dreamed of.

Years passed. Ludwig grew, not only in height and magical power, but also in his deep understanding of the art of alchemy.

In his second year, he began experimenting in the Hogwarts dungeons, using leftover materials from the Potions storeroom. He made board prototypes from magical wood and crystals, trying to bind card characters to the surface. But the results were disappointing—miniature figures appeared, but they didn't move, or exploded due to imbalanced energy reactions.

In his third year, Ludwig began to gain attention. Professor Flitwick praised him in Charms class for his highly precise modifications of basic spell formulas. Madam Pince, the librarian, granted him limited access to the restricted section of the library, with Dumbledore's personal permission. But his project remained a secret—only Charlie and a few house-elves who happened to help him knew.

In his fourth year, Ludwig became even more adept at reading ancient alchemical manuscripts, even translating one manuscript from Latin into his personal notes. He began to understand that the board he envisioned could not be made from a single type of material. It required a living framework, a kind of semi-organic medium that could serve as a link between magical cards and real manifestations.

But the search for that material had made him despair more than once. He tried phoenix resin, crushed goblin bones, even ashes from the Whomping Willow that had fallen last year. Nothing was stable enough.

But Ludwig never stopped.

And now—his fifth year—he stood at the end of his childhood, on the cusp of adulthood. His body was taller, his face calmer, and his gaze full of fire.

Hogwarts classes now felt like a small part of his larger life. He still wrote, still studied, still conducted experiments every night. And the Room of Requirement had become his faithful little base—where he kept countless experiments, journals, and prototype blueprints.

The autumn days leading up to his fifth year brought cold winds, but Ludwig felt warm with an unquenchable spirit. He knew his time hadn't arrived yet. But he was very close.

Very close.

Five years had passed since his first steps through the stone gates of Hogwarts.

Five years that felt like a blink in terms of days, but stretched long in significance.

Ludwig leaned back in a soft armchair in a corner of the library, the window beside him reflecting the autumn afternoon light. In his hand, a thick book on etheric resonance and how magical energy responds to spiritual matter lay open. But his mind drifted, far from the pages.

So much had changed.

He gazed out the window, imagining the expanse of grassy fields that once felt foreign now like his own backyard. He used to be a child carrying cards and imagination from a world that must not be named. Now he was a young Ravenclaw wizard, his name beginning to be whispered through the tower corridors: Ludwig Lovegood, the boy who built his own magic tower.

But it wasn't just him who had changed.

His mother... Pandora Lovegood.

In the world that should have happened, he knew—not from prophecy, but from tightly locked past memories—that Pandora would die soon. A failed experimental spell, a fatal explosion, a young Luna left in an unhealing sorrow.

But that didn't happen.

Because now, there was the Mage Tower. A private experimental tower he built in their backyard, behind tall, wild-growing reeds. The structure was initially just a small space that he secretly expanded with enlargement charms. Now, the tower stood strong, with a magical isolation system designed to withstand explosions, silence sounds, and even neutralize wild magical reactions.

His mother never experimented alone again. Every free moment during holidays, Pandora always waited for Ludwig to come home. Her cheerful face as she stirred glowing blue liquids, or as she recorded test results on parchment with silver ink, always warmed Ludwig's heart.

And Luna... always joined. She was nine now, with big eyes shimmering like the night sky, and a smile that only appeared when Ludwig was home. Sometimes she watched experiments, sometimes she drew Ludwig's card characters in a funny childish style, and sometimes she just sat quietly, holding her brother's hand, afraid he would leave for too long again.

"Not this time, Luna... there will be no departure without return," Ludwig thought, his head resting against the cold window frame.

He never discussed that past with anyone. No one knew what should have happened. And it would remain a secret.

However, one thing now began to haunt his mind. Not the past... but a figure from Hogwarts' past—The Grey Lady, the ghost resident of Ravenclaw tower.

All this time, he had only briefly greeted her in the corridors or at night when waiting for all students to sleep. Her figure was calm, floating slowly, her long gown seemingly formed from moon mist. Her gaze was often empty... or perhaps full.

Ludwig always felt there was something behind that silence. A secret. Knowledge. Perhaps... a path to something he had been searching for in books and magic.

He knew this year was the time to speak further with Miss Grey. Not just a simple greeting. He felt, somehow, that she knew something about the manifestation of energy from memories and spirits tied to this world. She might not just be a ghost, but a key to the mechanism Ludwig had been trying to build—a bridge between idea, magic, and life.

"It's been five years..." Ludwig thought once again, his eyes half-closed. "And everything... has just begun."

Several weeks passed with Ludwig trying to speak with Miss Grey.

He waited for her in the high corridors of Ravenclaw Tower, sometimes on the winding staircase to the upper library, or in the empty hall where moonlight fell across the stained-glass windows. But the ghost barely ever truly responded. She simply floated slowly, like a thin grey cloud, her eyes gazing far away as if piercing through the walls of time.

Each time Ludwig tried to greet her, she only gave a slight nod—or sometimes not at all.

But Ludwig was not one to give up easily. He noted the times of Miss Grey's appearances, observed the places she often visited, and slowly... he began to adapt his approach. He didn't always greet her directly, sometimes he just stood silently in a corner, sometimes he just left a small note in a certain place: a quote from an ancient book, or a reflective question like "Can memories save someone from emptiness?"

Until one night, as the sky rumbled softly with a distant storm in the Scottish Highlands, and a cold wind howled through the stone windows of Hogwarts... Miss Grey stopped.

She slowly turned towards Ludwig, who was sitting on the marble floor of the Ravenclaw Tower corridor, hugging a book in his lap.

"Why do you keep waiting for me, Mr. Lovegood?" Her voice was like an echo from a deep well—calm, layered with sorrow.

Ludwig slowly stood, not surprised, but holding his breath for a moment. "Because I believe... you know something that cannot be found in any book."

Miss Grey floated closer, her gown billowing softly like silver smoke. She gazed at Ludwig in silence. Her stare peeled away thoughts.

"I once lived in a world of books," Ludwig continued softly. "But the further I learned, I realized—some knowledge lingers in the human soul, not in pages."

Silence hung for a few seconds.

Finally, Miss Grey gave a small nod. And from that moment on, they began to speak. Not every day, but often enough for the connection to grow.

They talked about the history of Ravenclaw, about Helena and Rowena, about wisdom too heavy for children to bear.

Until one night, as they stood behind the thick curtains of the Ravenclaw common room, with stars shining dimly in the sky... Ludwig raised his voice slightly, carefully but confidently.

"I've seen that diadem."

Miss Grey immediately fell silent.

Her eyes, which had been empty, now sharpened, gazing at Ludwig like a cold light piercing through mist.

"What diadem do you mean?" Her voice was not merely asking. It was pressing, piercing, full of tightly suppressed fear.

"The Ravenclaw Diadem. That Diadem." Ludwig stared at her unblinking. "It was with you, wasn't it? Not physically... but the memory of it. Its energy. Its trace."

Miss Grey didn't budge, then her body suddenly trembled weakly. A strong emotion—a mixture of loss and anger—bubbled from her cold aura.

"No one... no young wizard... should know that," she whispered.

Ludwig did not back down. "I don't want to steal it. I want to understand... and protect what remains of Rowena's greatness."

Miss Grey's eyes widened in shock. Her voice trembled, "Where did you find it?"

Ludwig sighed softly, then said, "I will take you to that place. But in return, you must teach me about alchemy—how energy can be bound, manipulated, and brought to life."

Miss Grey was stunned for a moment, then lowered her head, then raised it and said in a firmer voice, "Then you must take me to that Ravenclaw Diadem. I want to find it once more."

Ludwig nodded firmly, "I will take you there."

They began to walk together, Ludwig leading the way with certainty, and Miss Grey following with a slowly growing hope, ready to unveil long-buried secrets.

Ludwig led Miss Grey down the corridor towards the Room of Requirement. He walked with conviction, his mind busy finding the right place to hide something precious. When the magical door opened, they were greeted by a room overflowing with piles of objects—some appearing valuable, others broken and forgotten, as if holding old, neglected stories.

Miss Grey moved slowly, her eyes scanning every corner of the room as if sensing the energy stored within the items. Slowly, she stepped towards an old wooden box located in the corner of the room. With trembling hands, she opened the box.

Inside lay the Ravenclaw Diadem—however, the aura emanating from it was different. A dark change enveloped the diadem, making it appear no longer pure as the legends told. Miss Grey looked at it with a mixture of sadness and fear.

"I know this diadem has changed... into something foul," she said softly, her voice full of warning.

Sensing the despair and urgency, Ludwig nodded firmly. "We must take it to Professor Dumbledore immediately. Only he might know how to cleanse and save this diadem."