After the "Aurora" incident, Sterling kept a low profile for quite a while, diving deep into the theory behind Avalonian spells.
Although Maleficent was unavailable to meet and answer questions in person, her treasury remained open to Sterling. He could freely pull magical tomes from it to cram his theoretical foundations.
Until now, both Maleficent and Vivian had taught in a hands-on style, practice far outweighing theory, so much so that Sterling actually understood the waking world's theory better than Avalon's.
Devoting himself like this did pay off. In a month he found the answer.
There seems to be a special "substance" in Avalon that can substitute for magic power in generating spells. Precisely because of this substance, Avalonian magic simply doesn't care about magic consumption.
To achieve the best effect, a spell's creator will stack "mana" without remorse; after all, it isn't their own power being spent.
This substance is extremely hard to call upon in the present world. Compared to Avalon, it's like drinking water versus drinking molten rock.
Sterling has the ability to call on it in the present world, which is why casting such magic feels no different to him than in Avalon. Hermione and the others, however, must pay with their own reserves.
This discovery completely extinguished Sterling's idea of teaching them Avalonian magic, but their Utopia stayed, repurposed for other lessons.
Sterling's Charms and Transfiguration, Harry's flying techniques, Neville's Herbology, Hermione's Potions, Terry's History of Magic, Padma's Defence Against the Dark Arts...
Ron? Well, with so many teachers, someone can be a full-time student.
Or rather, he's the Wizard Chess instructor. Much to Sterling and Hermione's confusion, Ron's otherwise underused brain seems to allocate all its compute to chess.
During breaks, Ron is practically superhuman.
In short, they used Utopia as a second common room and library substitute. Whenever they were free, they'd gather there and exchange knowledge.
This made Harry's level skyrocket. As Sterling suspected, he had every bit of the talent a "Saviour" ought to have.
With supervision, a full-power Harry even surpassed Hermione and Terry in Charms and Transfiguration, reaching a level second only to Sterling.
As for progress in Avalon, Sterling had found traces of Gerda, but to his regret, he also found a battlefield site where Black Knights had been entirely frozen in ice, suggesting the first clash had already occurred.
In any case, time quickly brought them to Halloween.
"Sterling, hurry up! Hermione and Padma already went to the Great Hall for breakfast!"
Terry's voice urged from outside the door. Sterling gave a brief reply and sped up his washing.
While packing the books he needed for class, he happened to notice a spot on the shelf cleared specifically for a bag of label-less milk candy. It looked like someone's homemade batch.
"When did I buy this? No memory of it..."
Muttering, Sterling tossed it into his bag, planning to share it with Harry and the others at breakfast.
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't be so impatient, Terry. Even if we're 'late', that's only relative to Ravenclaw. Want to bet Neville and the others are still lazing in bed?"
"Alright, fair point, but you, a Ravenclaw, competing with Gryffindors?"
"Why not? No inter-house discrimination!"
"Is this the same person who taught Ron Transfiguration until you were roaring at that stubborn lion?"
"That never happened. My respect for Gryffindor is known to all."
Joking, the two reached the Hall, immediately spotting Padma hunched over the table, furiously writing on an envelope.
"The Quibbler rejected her submission again. She's planning to imitate that author named Rita's style."
Hermione sipped her orange juice beside her. "I think that's a bad idea. I've seen Rita's reports; The Quibbler won't welcome such sharp, impolite prose."
"But their absurdity is very similar." Padma took a quick bite from a sausage Hermione passed her, then looked up. "I mean, Rita turns true stories into what readers like to read, while Mr. Lovegood straight up prints nonexistent things readers want to read."
"So your life goal now is to be a journalist?" Sterling handed out the candies from his bag. "Here, a sugar boost."
"Oh? You're willing to share this with us?" Hermione looked in surprise at the handful of milk candies. "Before, I had to beg to get one or two."
Oh? Did that candy come from some fancy custom confectioner?
Sterling felt a little puzzled, but after tasting one, it was perfectly ordinary. If anything, the texture was off, like a novice's work.
He was about to ask what on earth this forgotten candy was, when Harry breezed in. Since he'd started hanging out with Sterling's group, he'd been waking earlier, though Quidditch practice played a big part too.
The season was about to begin, and as the youngest Chaser, Gryffindor's captain, Wood, had been giving him lots of special training.
"Hey! I heard we're learning the Levitation Charm in Charms today!"
As he spoke, he floated a roll to his mouth and took a bite.
"Neville and Ron are still a bit behind... but the three of us should score points!"
"See? You've trained a potential threat to Ravenclaw." Terry laughed and clapped Sterling on the back.
Ever since Harry Potter started showing talent to match his Saviour status, Gryffindor's point gems had begun refilling, but they still couldn't escape Ravenclaw's shadow.
Ravenclaw's first-year foursome kept every self-styled prodigy in a constant crouch.
"Oh, Ron and the others are here. I'll grab breakfast with them. See you at the feast tonight! Ron and I plan to play Wizard Chess with Seamus this afternoon, so we won't be at Utopia."
"Good luck in Charms."
Sterling waved lazily in farewell, then caught a familiar yet changed figure at the staff table out of the corner of his eye.
Quirrell was actually in the Great Hall.
His face was ghastly, skin sallow, cheeks sunken like a skull wrapped in skin.
Most striking was his left hand. Sterling's eye for detail was sharp. Quirrell didn't exert any force with his left hand while eating. Combined with the faintly smaller look of the left hand...
Atrophied?
Someone so emaciated should relax others' vigilance, but "Witness of the Author" leapt out of Sterling on its own and disagreed.
Visible only to Sterling, the pages opened, and black letters faintly tinged with blood spiralled up:
"The servant of darkness is cornered; in a dying counterstrike, green turns to char. Life is taken for the rite, and the ever-insatiable... behold, servant of grace, the one favoured by God, who shall glimpse his desire in the flame."
"The one who fears death bares his fangs at the world. A precious thing is already hidden in his hand, bound by sin. O innocent, how will you judge?"
"May you walk the right road, to its very end."
The last line brightened into dazzling gold.
This prophecy... had turned cryptic. Sterling could only make sense of the first half for now.
The servant of darkness was Quirrell; "counterstrike" was easy enough. He'd likely make one last play on Halloween. "Green"... the Forbidden Forest? Burn it and use the life within as a fire-rite?
But how to explain "grace"? A dark god?
If the first half still offered footholds, the second half was a fog.
His "precious thing"... what would that be?
If he had to name something, it would be his writings; otherwise, just his friends at school. But calling his writings "bound by sin" didn't track...
While Sterling pondered, he didn't notice a box in his dorm room, the one that held letters.
On each envelope, the word "Andrew" was slowly staining... with a thick, black blot.