It seemed that the contents of the book were likely true, which meant Phineas could now approach Ms. Grey.
Ms. Grey and the Bloody Baron were quite different. Though both were generally silent, the Baron was lost in his own world of regret, whereas Ms. Grey's silence felt more reflective—often found seated in a classroom, gazing quietly at the lectern, as if recalling what it was like to attend lessons long ago.
Finding a specific classroom at Hogwarts was never easy, but Ms. Grey had another place she frequented—Ravenclaw Tower, just outside the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room.
Unlike the other three Houses, Ravenclaw did not forbid students from other Houses from entering their common room—as long as they could answer the riddle posed by the eagle-shaped bronze knocker.
Phineas decided to wait there for Ms. Grey to appear.
The wait lasted the entire day. Fortunately, it was the weekend, and Phineas had no classes. Had it been a weekday, he might have had to skip lessons—something he had never done before. Although completing his task was important, skipping class would ruin the goodwill he had built with many professors.
"Ms. Grey?"
Phineas addressed the ghostly woman as she drifted into view.
She was tall, dignified, and carried an air of restrained elegance. She nodded politely.
"I am. Is something the matter?"
Her tone was calm, almost detached, and she didn't seem particularly surprised or interested in being spoken to.
"So... are you Helena Ravenclaw?"
At this, Ms. Grey's expression changed slightly. Her lips curled into a faint sneer, and she looked at Phineas with cold amusement.
"Why? Are you here to ask about my mother's diadem as well?"
She turned and began floating away.
"Then I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Wait!"
Phineas took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm despite the disdain in her voice. He couldn't explain it—he had endured isolation, hostility, and suspicion at Hogwarts for over a month without flinching, but now, a few words from Helena made his blood boil. It was irrational.
"I'm not here for the crown—although now I admit I'm curious. Not about the artifact itself, but about your story."
Helena paused and glanced back at him, her eyes filled with skepticism.
"You're not the first student to come pestering me about the crown. Every generation thinks they can trick or pressure me."
Phineas shook his head.
"As I said, my goal isn't to gain house points or become wiser by wearing the crown."
According to legend, Ravenclaw's diadem could grant great wisdom to its wearer.
Helena's gaze remained doubtful.
Phineas continued, "I know what happened. I know you took the diadem... but that's not why I'm here today. I want to ask: when your mother—Ms. Ravenclaw—died, did she leave any final words? Anything that might be a clue to a possible inheritance?"
Helena's eyes softened, turning from suspicion to pity. To her, this boy was just another fool chasing after myths.
"My mother wouldn't have left behind a legacy. And even if she had, I wouldn't know anything about it."
Phineas met her gaze. "Still, the fact that these legends exist suggests there's some truth to them. Just like I know about you—things you've never shared with others."
Helena narrowed her eyes.
"More than forty years ago, I told a man where I had hidden the diadem. He deceived me with sweet words and took it."
Phineas nodded. "But he didn't know it was you who stole it. And he certainly didn't know it was the Baron who killed you, right? Out of guilt, he still wears those shackles... and he took his own life with the very weapon he used against you."
Helena stared at him in astonishment. She had never shared those details, and the Baron certainly hadn't. This boy had truly done his research.
"But that still doesn't prove that my mother left anything behind," she said quietly.
Phineas nodded, a little defeated.
"Maybe. But could you at least tell me what her final words were—anything she repeated often?"
Helena sighed and rolled her eyes.
"All right. I remember she used to say this a lot: 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.'"
Phineas nodded thoughtfully. If that was her guiding principle, then perhaps the key to unlocking her legacy lay in that very phrase.
He turned to leave. "Thank you. Sorry to have disturbed you."
As he started to walk away, Helena called softly from behind him.
"If—if—my mother did leave something behind... and you truly find it... would you tell me?"
She was still the same girl who had made a mistake she could never undo—still longing for a chance to make it right, to see her mother again, even if only through a relic.
Phineas turned and offered a reassuring smile.
"If I find it, I'll take you to see it. Maybe... maybe she never blamed you at all. Maybe that's why she never told the other founders—why she kept it secret until the end. Maybe... they never knew."