Chapter Five: Whispers and Watchers

  The Ravenclaw table buzzed with energy long after the Sorting had ended. Platters of food appeared like magic—as Lily had been told they would—and the excited chatter of first-years mixed with laughter and clinking goblets. The hall was warm, the ceiling still gleaming with starlight, and the scent of roasted meats and baked breads filled the air.

  Lily sat near the middle of the table, tucked between a girl with long, sleek hair named Marigold Thistlewhite and a talkative boy named Basil who already had ink on his fingers and parchment in his lap.

  But despite the food and the wonder all around her, Lily could feel the attention.

  “Did she say Ravenclaw?” Basil whispered—not for the first time—nudging Marigold across Lily.

  Marigold leaned in, her blue eyes sharp with curiosity. “Yes, I heard it too. Lily Ravenclaw. That can’t be a coincidence, right?”

  A few other older students were murmuring and glancing her way, their expressions ranging from interest to mild disbelief. One especially bookish-looking prefect leaned across the table.

  “Ravenclaw? As in Rowena Ravenclaw?” she asked quietly, though her tone wasn’t unkind—just cautious.

  Lily flushed. “I—I don’t know. That’s just my name.”

  “Huh,” Basil said thoughtfully. “But it’s not a common name, is it? Not in the wizarding world.”

  “Maybe she’s adopted,” Marigold whispered.

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  Lily ducked her head, wishing she could disappear into her goblet of pumpkin juice. “I don’t really know anything about it.”

  That seemed to satisfy some of them, at least for the moment. The older students turned back to their food, though the air still buzzed with quiet whispers and stolen glances.

  Marigold smiled, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it awkward. It’s just… wow. That’s a big name to carry around, isn’t it?”

  Lily nodded faintly. “I guess so.”

  She had barely touched her food. Despite the warmth and welcoming spirit of the Ravenclaws, something heavy sat in her chest. Not quite dread—but not comfort either. Like the feeling of standing at the edge of something too deep to see the bottom.

  Later, when the feast ended and the students were guided out of the Great Hall, Lily followed the Ravenclaws through endless stone corridors and climbing staircases. Their prefect, a tall seventh-year named Orla, led them with a gentle but firm voice.

  “Ravenclaw Tower is at the west side of the castle. The entrance has no password—you’ll need to answer a riddle to get in. Don’t worry if you get stuck. If you wait long enough, someone else always comes along with the answer.”

  They climbed a spiraling staircase to a tall door without a handle. Orla turned and grinned. “Whoever wants to try the riddle, step forward.”

  Basil immediately volunteered. The eagle-shaped knocker spoke:

  “I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?”

  “An echo!” Basil said, bouncing on his toes.

  “Correct,” the door replied, and it swung open.

  The Ravenclaw common room was breathtaking—circular and filled with tall arched windows. A domed ceiling sparkled with enchanted stars, and bookshelves lined every wall. Cushioned armchairs circled a fireplace where blue flames flickered gently.

  The first-years spread out, oohing and aahing. Marigold tugged Lily over to one of the window seats.

  “You’ve got to sit here tomorrow morning,” she said. “The sunrise over the mountains is unbelievable.”

  Lily smiled, grateful for the gesture, but something tugged at her attention.

  Across the room, standing apart from the others, was a ghost.

  She was tall and willowy, dressed in flowing robes of silvery blue that shimmered like mist. Her dark hair floated around her face like it was underwater, and her pale eyes were fixed—steadily, silently—on Lily.

  For a moment, no one else seemed to notice.

  Lily stiffened. There was no malice in the gaze, only… sadness. And recognition.

  The ghost tilted her head slightly, then turned, gliding soundlessly toward the stone wall and disappearing through it without a word.

  “Lily? You okay?” Marigold asked.

  Lily blinked. “Yeah. I just… thought I saw something.”

  She didn’t explain further. The feeling in her chest returned—that pull, deep and ancient. The name she carried didn’t feel heavy now. It felt like a thread being pulled taut—toward something waiting to be unraveled.

  She looked out the tall window, into the night beyond the towers, and thought of glowing eyes, whispers in the dark, and dreams older than the castle itself.

  And somewhere down in her trunk, Ash slept—curled tight, the faint bumps on his forehead gleaming faintly beneath the moonlight.