Wyzett repeated the riddle aloud: "I am here, yet you do not know me; abandon me, and you shall surely perish?"
"Is it air?" he ventured. "It's everywhere, but you barely notice it. If you couldn't breathe, you'd lose your life—certainly perish."
The bronze eagle seemed to come alive, stretching its broad wings wide.
With a low, resonant creak, the great bronze door swung open, revealing a marble spiral staircase beyond.
"An excellent answer, and a perfectly logical explanation," Penelope applauded with a warm smile. "That's the Ravenclaw way. Welcome home!"
They climbed the marble spiral staircase, ascending to a breathtakingly spacious, circular common room at the very top of the tower.
The domed ceiling was painted with a sea of stars, their light mirrored by crystal orbs floating in the air. Marble walls gleamed snow-white; carpets and drapes were the deep blue of the ocean; bronze accents lent an ancient, dignified weight to the room. Together, they created an atmosphere of solemn tranquility.
Desks, long benches, and cozy armchairs were arranged throughout the space. Bookshelves filled every alcove, crammed with thick tomes, filling the air with the unmistakable aura of a scholarly salon.
Arched windows punctuated the walls, offering a view of the night sky beyond—stars so clear and brilliant they looked like lanterns strung across the heavens.
The older students slipped easily into their usual spots—some opened books, others gazed up at the floating crystals, lost in thought.
Many first-years, wide-eyed and eager, hurried to the windows, hoping to soak in the dazzling nightscape.
Penelope clapped her hands for attention. "Professor McGonagall probably told you: your House is your home. You'll be here for seven years!"
"But for tonight, the most important thing is getting you all to your dormitories. I saw quite a few of you nodding off earlier. After such a long night, you must be exhausted."
She led the girls first, guiding them toward their side of the common room and the girls' dormitory.
On the opposite side stood a towering statue—so tall its head nearly brushed the domed ceiling. It depicted a beautiful woman draped in flowing robes, a magnificent crown atop her head, and hair cascading almost to the floor. There was an ethereal, almost unearthly grace about her that made everyone pause in awe.
At the base was an inscription: Rowena Ravenclaw—"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."
As the new students began to yawn and rub their eyes, Penelope returned to lead the boys to their dormitory.
She paused beside a double door. "This is the washroom. If you want to freshen up, come here..."
Though the common room occupied just one tower, it felt surprisingly spacious, with at least three spiral staircases and several restful dormitories.
"This is your dormitory," she said, stopping outside the boys' entrance. "I'll leave you here… Oh, and one more thing—the stairs to the girls' dormitory are enchanted. If a boy tries to climb them, they'll turn into a slippery slide."
A first-year blurted out, "Then how come you can come into ours? Is that a prefect perk?"
"Of course not," Penelope replied, shaking her head. "The most reliable explanation is that the founders believed girls were more trustworthy than boys."
The dormitory itself was spacious and inviting, with each student assigned a four-poster bronze bed and wardrobe, plus their own desk and chair. The beds were hung with deep blue curtains, embroidered with proud bronze eagles. Plush blue carpets covered the floor, soft underfoot.
Just as promised on the train, their luggage had already been delivered. It looked as if house-elves had tidied everything—trunks lined up, beds made, pillows fluffed, and the air filled with the scent of sun-warmed linen.
The other first-years were so exhausted that they barely managed a goodnight before collapsing onto their beds.
"Hoot, hoot, hoot!"
Sol, his owl, began calling softly, tapping his claws impatiently on his perch.
"Feeling cooped up, are you?" Wyzett smiled and opened the cage.
Sol immediately fluttered to the trunk, pecking at it with his sharp beak—tap, tap, tap.
"Shh, don't wake the others!" Wyzett quickly scooped up Sol, then opened the trunk and pulled out a large, thick cloth bundle.
Inside were the snacks he'd bought from the trolley witch.
"Are you sure you can manage all this?" he asked, stroking the owl's crown feathers. "If not, I can ask where the Owlery is and find you a friend to help."
"Hoot!" Sol gave a long, confident cry, fluffing his feathers with pride.
"All right then." Wyzett smiled, settling at his desk and spreading out a piece of parchment.
He sat for a long time, quill poised, but the words wouldn't come—even after the ink on the tip had dried.
He'd never really written a letter to anyone before and had no idea where to begin.
Even with the help of Custodis Meditatio (Guardian's Meditation), his thoughts felt tangled and scattered.
"Where do I even start? From King's Cross Station? Or should I begin with crossing the lake to the castle?"
"Hoot?" Sol bowed his head like a little gentleman and gave Wyzett a gentle peck on the chest.
"Right to the point, aren't you? You really have learned from Luna." Wyzett dipped his quill in ink again, watching it bloom into a dark flower on the parchment…
Snape wore a thunderous expression as he rapped on the door—then, without waiting for a reply, swept straight into the headmaster's office.
"A Boy Who Lived, an Obscurial, and a baby Cerberus… Hogwarts is certainly lively this year, wouldn't you say, Headmaster Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore placed The Sorting Hat on his desk and nodded in agreement. "Indeed, most lively."
"Heh..." Snape gave a pair of cold, humorless laughs. "Who would have thought? I go away for the holidays, and Hogwarts becomes so 'safe.'"
He dragged out the word "safe" with biting sarcasm.
His eyebrows arched high. "I find myself wondering—how exactly do you plan to protect Harry Potter? Is stopping the prophecy from coming true your only definition of victory?"
"Someone who could lose control at any moment and become an Obscurial—and you still approved his enrollment, letting him become Harry Potter's classmate?"
"Severus, please, calm yourself. How about some tea?" Dumbledore sat down, conjuring a full tea set with a flick of his wand. "My suggestion: you might want to read The Quibbler."
"The Quibbler has become quite engaging lately, with plenty of discussion about Obscurials and how best to interact with them. From what I hear, these recent issues have been very well received."
"But as far as I know..." Snape finally sat, eyeing the teacup. "The Quibbler's editor is Xenophilius Lovegood, and that Obscurial shares his surname."
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, pouring the tea. "The fact that Xenophilius would do this shows he's accepted Wyzett. And I've discovered something else rather interesting."
Snape glanced at the teacup, then pressed on. "Also about the Obscurial?"
"Mm. This is something The Sorting Hat told me." Dumbledore tapped the desk. "Would you care to tell us again?"
"That child is no ordinary student..." The Sorting Hat suddenly split open, mouth stretching into a jagged grin. "I seemed to see his thoughts clearly—and yet, not at all."
"It's a most peculiar feeling! He's remarkably approachable… Not that I mean he's an old relic like myself… What I mean is…"
The hat paused, searching for words. "Through that child, I could see you all—from his perspective."
"It was truly fascinating! I enjoyed it immensely. I rather like that boy."
Snape's brow furrowed, his face darkening in thought. "You mean…"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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