For Harry Potter, today was a day of mixed emotions.
Though seeing Sterling, who was the same age as him, cast such terrifyingly powerful magic was a bit deflating, he discovered his flying talent during the subsequent match with Malfoy.
He was even exceptionally admitted to the Gryffindor team by Professor McGonagall. Because she came so quickly and whisked him away, Madam Hooch didn't even have time to dock him points.
It was a perfect day.
Correspondingly, it was the most terrifying night.
Harry and Ron crouched trembling behind a suit of armour as the shadow of a four-legged beast swept past them. Ron even temporarily held his breath.
The shadow's owner slowly appeared in their view. A white cat with dry, brittle fur. She walked past the armour gallery with her haughty gait, her massive shadow spreading to the next classroom...
"Ha... Harry... is she gone? Mrs. Norris?"
Ron's voice was barely distinguishable from a mosquito's buzz. If they weren't pressed tightly together, Harry definitely wouldn't have heard anything.
"Should be gone; I don't see her..."
Harry cautiously poked his head out. A moment later, Ron's head also appeared.
"Harry... do you think Malfoy tricked us? He never intended to come duel us, did he?"
Ron sniffled. He felt like he might catch a cold from the wind.
"Maybe we should go back, Harry..."
"But if Malfoy comes later, won't he think we're cowards who ran away from the duel?"
Harry was still conflicted, but soon he wouldn't need to be.
An aged voice echoed from the end of the corridor.
"Mrs. Norris... sniff carefully and catch all those rule-breaking brats!"
"Malfoy!" Harry immediately realised they'd truly been tricked by Malfoy. Not only had he not come, he'd reported them to Filch!
"I knew it! The whole Malfoy family are jerks. Run!" Ron immediately grabbed Harry's hand and ran.
"Norris! There they are!"
Filch didn't miss them bolting from the armour gallery. He sneered inwardly. Did two first-years think they could escape him, a caretaker who'd spent half his life at Hogwarts?
Ridiculous! Did they think everyone was like the Weasley twins?!
And one of those two even had red hair. Definitely a Weasley!
Filch snorted coldly and gave chase with his oil lamp.
Perhaps from years of racing night-prowling students, his running speed wasn't much slower than Harry and Ron despite his age.
Mrs. Norris followed closely behind them.
After the chase group left this corridor, rustling sounds came from a hidden corner...
Sterling poked his head out from under the Invisibility Cloak, looking somewhat speechlessly toward the end of the corridor.
He'd been crouched here listening for quite a while. Harry and Ron's conversation had made everything crystal clear to him.
They'd argued while Madam Hooch was teaching a solitary Slytherin proper posture, then soared into the sky. Harry's exceptional talent had attracted Professor McGonagall's attention...
Anyway, the point was that Malfoy felt unbalanced, so during dinner he challenged them to a duel here. But when the time came, not only did he not show up, but he turned around and reported them.
Tsk tsk tsk, Malfoy had really gone too far.
Sterling stroked his chin. He felt this might be useful for coercing Malfoy into doing things for him in the future, but it had to be before fourth year.
Magical history emphasised the significance of duels. As heir to the Malfoy family, he'd actually fled from a duel he himself initiated...
Once exposed, Draco Malfoy's reputation would be completely ruined.
Why before the fourth year? Based on Sterling's recent observations, upperclass Slytherins were no different from politicians. For profit, reputation meant nothing.
Sterling pulled out "The Witness of the Author" to see where Filch had chased Harry and Ron.
"Harry and Ron, chased frantically by Mrs. Norris, had completely failed to notice they'd been delivered by a mischievous staircase to the forbidden fourth-floor corridor where entry was prohibited."
Oh? The forbidden area mentioned at the start of term, where they'd face accidental death?
Sterling raised his eyebrows. Finally, something interesting tonight.
He'd been wondering what the prophecy meant by "the first trial set by the sage" and "the hero might not survive." Surely it couldn't just be getting caught night-prowling?
That would make the titles "Saviour" and "Hero" pretty hollow.
So the forbidden corridor was the real trial. Since it was set up by Headmaster Dumbledore, who the prophecy's "sage" referred to was obvious.
Sterling put the Invisibility Cloak back on and quietly headed toward the fourth floor.
After even his light footsteps disappeared from the corridor, ripples spread across a tapestried wall in the armour gallery.
Dumbledore seemed to suddenly materialise from thin air, holding a small candle in his left hand, its weak light casting flickering shadows on his aged face.
"Sometimes I think you headmasters all have something wrong up here."
Peeves popped out from behind him, giving him an exasperated look.
"Using a candle when a Lumos would work is one thing, but now it's just us two. Are you trying to create the image of a weird old wizard for me?"
"Haha, when you get old, you like doing fun things."
"Have you forgotten since when I've been at Hogwarts?" Peeves was rubbing his face, trying to arrange his usual comically ridiculous expression.
"Then I'm still young, and young people doing anything is reasonable," Dumbledore smoothly changed his tune.
Peeves looked at him incredulously.
What emotion was required for practising Sage Magic? To turn someone into this?
"Come on, if we don't hurry, your precious Harry will enter the forbidden corridor."
"That's not necessary to worry about." Dumbledore shook his head.
"Having been headmaster so long, I'm confident I have some grasp of these school matters."
Well then, since he was so confident, Peeves said nothing more. After a brief silence, Dumbledore couldn't help speaking first.
"I still don't see what's... special enough about that child to catch Avalon's attention?"
"Don't rush. I've seen it. You'll discover his uniqueness today. Of course, it's just the tip of the iceberg, but it's enough for you to understand a bit of Avalon's meaning."
Seen? Dumbledore probed: "Prophecy magic?"
"Ah, who knows?" Peeves grinned widely, no longer speaking with Dumbledore. His expression returned to the mischievous look Dumbledore was familiar with, suddenly doing a somersault in mid-air.
"Ah! Headmaster Dumbledore? How are you here?"
Dumbledore stared at him for a long time, his half-moon spectacles gleaming silver like the moon.
"Nothing, Peeves. I'm just taking a walk."
The silver light faded, and Dumbledore became a kindly old man again. He waved goodbye to Peeves and walked toward the end of the corridor.
Peeves scratched his head, jumped toward the ceiling, and also left the corridor.
After the corridor completely returned to its usual tranquillity, a hoarse crow's call suddenly rang out. A pitch-black feather burnt at the spot where Sterling had lurked, turning to ash.
In Avalon, Maleficent removed the raven from her forehead and revealed a meaningful smile.