After instructing Kreacher to send some Galleons to the Black family vault, Phineas rose and headed toward the Room of Requirement. The time had finally come to uncover what lay behind that mysterious wall—Ravenclaw's legacy, perhaps?
It was the Christmas holiday, and not just Slytherin House but the entire castle was nearly deserted. Barely a soul stirred in the corridors that morning, allowing Phineas to walk undisturbed from the dungeons to the seventh floor. It was oddly surreal.
Reentering Ravenclaw's hidden alchemical laboratory without difficulty, he approached the familiar wall and placed the ring—now on the little finger of his right hand—into the small groove.
At once, a pale blue glow began to spread from the indentation, tracing a pattern across the stone. The glow intensified, growing so bright that Phineas had to shut his eyes against the dazzle. Moments later, a sudden, powerful suction pulled at the ring. His body began to spin rapidly as if caught between two crushing walls.
Unlike a normal Portkey, this transportation felt strange—not nauseating, but suffocating. The force pressed in on him, robbing him of air until, just when it became unbearable, the pressure vanished, and the light faded.
Phineas opened his eyes, dazed. He now stood in a room he'd never seen before.
A soft chime rang out in his mind:
Di~ Side Mission: Inherit the legacy of the four legendary founders.
Phase One complete—First Founder's legacy unlocked!
Reward: +1 to chosen magical/skill talent.
Phase Two begins—Unlock the second Founder's inheritance.
Reward: Full mastery of the Patronus Charm.
The room resembled an underground cavern, completely sealed from the outside world. Shelves lined the stone walls, overflowing with published texts and handwritten notes. Every document focused in some way on ancient magical scripts—not merely runes, but symbols and languages even Phineas, with the Black family's entire library at his disposal, had never encountered.
The notes varied in subject: some explored spellcraft through magical linguistics, others examined transfiguration, potion-making, and high-level alchemy. Every notebook bore a name—and one in particular made Phineas pause.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
So it was true. The Headmaster himself had been here. No wonder the ring seemed familiar—Dumbledore had always worn one on his right pinky. Perhaps this was the same ring, though Phineas couldn't be sure if it contained a wand.
Yet even the Headmaster's presence wasn't the room's greatest revelation.
At the center of the chamber, encircled by these records, stood a Pensieve and a single vial of silver memory. On the Pensieve's rim, a message was engraved:
"Claim my memory inheritance, and leave your discoveries for the future."
Simple words, yet heavy with meaning. This was no ordinary memory. It must be the intellectual inheritance of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Around the chamber were hundreds—perhaps over a thousand—texts written by her heirs, each adding to her legacy.
Phineas glanced to the back wall, where the names of those heirs were etched. Among them: Albus Dumbledore. Below his name, only one more appeared—Pandora Goldstein, now known as Pandora Lovegood.
The Lovegoods were an obscure French pure-blood family, known more for eccentricity than power. They had long since settled in Ottery St. Catchpole. With Pandora's name being the last, it meant no successor had come since her—until now.
Not that it mattered. Ravenclaw's Chamber was nearly impossible to locate, and harder still to access without advanced alchemical knowledge. Phineas had only made it this far through sheer persistence—and a bit of system-assisted luck.
He approached the Pensieve, uncorked the vial, and poured the silvery memory into the basin. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and let himself fall in.
Unlike his previous experiences with Pensieves, this was no passive third-person viewing. The memory gripped him fully, pulling his consciousness inward. It wasn't like seeing—it was like becoming. Ravenclaw's thoughts flooded into him, forcefully and completely.
His last coherent thought before losing awareness was a sense of alarm—he felt ambushed.
When he awoke, he was on the floor of the chamber, head spinning. Drawing his wand instinctively, he scanned the room. But everything was as he had left it.
A new clarity blossomed in his mind—lines of ancient runes, theoretical models of spell structure, and esoteric alchemical formulas he'd never known. The knowledge was there, fully integrated. His magic system book confirmed it:
Ancient Magic Runes: Lv7
A remarkable leap—his highest skill so far was only level ten, the system's defined full mastery.
He stood in silence, heart pounding, overwhelmed and elated. Ravenclaw's legacy now lived within him.
And this was only the second step.