Hogwarts had been snowing heavily all day. By the time Terry and Sterling said goodbye before Terry left for the station, thick snow had accumulated on the ground like a pristine white blanket, looking perfect for snowball fights.
Sterling watched George and Fred chasing Ron with snowballs, their laughter echoing across the courtyard. Fred spotted Sterling through the swirling flakes and extended an invitation, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.
"Hey! Ravenclaw star! Want to join us in crusading against the evil Wizard Chess Demon King Ron?"
Sterling felt sorely tempted by the prospect of pelting Ron with snow, but considering the Mandrake leaf wouldn't appreciate such frivolity, he reluctantly abandoned this enticing idea.
Ron gave him a thumbs up from behind a stone pillar. "Good brother! I knew I wasn't wrong about you!"
The next moment he was hit squarely by George's well-aimed snowball and ran away with a yelp that made Sterling grin.
"Sterling, have Terry, Hermione and the others all left?" Harry approached from the snow-covered grounds, shaking crystalline flakes from his messy hair onto the warm corridor stones.
Sterling quickly scribbled a warning before answering the question. "Filch will kill you if he sees this," he wrote, then flipped to a fresh page.
"Terry's going on vacation to Ireland. Hermione and Padma discovered they live surprisingly close to each other and decided both families would attend London's Christmas celebrations together."
"Well, it looks like our Utopia can only have three people communicating this holiday." Harry's green eyes dimmed with disappointment. "I wanted to ask Terry about magic for pranking people."
Sterling pointed toward the Weasley twins' retreating figures, their red hair bright against the white snow. Honestly, when it came to prank magic, those two were absolute masters, walking encyclopaedias of mischief.
Only three people communicating? That seemed wrong somehow.
Sterling returned to the Ravenclaw common room to find the house unexpectedly deserted, the silence almost eerie after months of constant chatter and activity.
The normally occupied library area stood empty, books abandoned mid-chapter on scattered tables. The popular fireplace area sat vacant, the flames crackling lonely conversations with themselves. Sterling couldn't help wondering if he might be the only little Eagle staying at school.
The next morning, Sterling woke to find gifts piled beneath his bed like a colourful mountain, nearly causing him to swallow his Mandrake leaf in surprise.
House-elves had thoughtfully arranged gifts from Sterling's closest friends in the most prominent positions, wrapping paper catching the winter sunlight streaming through frost-covered windows.
Sterling first noticed a huge square gift box wrapped in purple paper adorned with silver stars, emanating rich magical energy that made his fingertips tingle.
As Sterling prepared to unwrap what was clearly Harry's gift, Robin flew over with a letter clutched in tiny talons. Strangely, this letter had been placed right next to what looked like Nicolas Flamel's contribution to the gift pile.
Sterling opened the envelope with curious fingers to find mysteriously familiar handwriting, each curve drawn with especial care and roundness.
"To Sterling Page:"
"You once promised me manuscripts, and I waited until Christmas Eve when the candles went out, but the owl never came."
"I think perhaps you haven't forgotten your former dreams?"
"Andrew Dept"
Sterling rolled the name around in his mind like a foreign flavour. It sparked a series of sparks in his consciousness, but when Sterling tried to examine them closely, they all extinguished like snuffed candles.
"Andrew Dept?"
Former dreams. Becoming a writer famous in both the present world and Avalon.
Sterling tried wiping away the tears that had suddenly appeared, but they only multiplied, unstoppable as spring rain.
"A very important person. Andrew Dept."
Like mist that had shrouded him for ages was blown away by endless gales, the disharmony in memories previously hidden by fog was instantly exposed before Sterling's eyes with startling clarity.
Promised manuscripts. There had been such a thing, but the memory's target should have been someone called Herman Chatus. No, that editor was from the London Daily, and he'd never published works in the London Daily.
Until he noticed there was still something at the cage bottom.
A small note read simply: "Inject magical power."
Sterling followed the instructions, watching as a misty blue light orb rose from the cage like captured starlight, then settled on the hanging swing, transforming into a plump robin with feathers that shimmered between blue and black.
"Chirp! Robin reporting for duty!"
A talking pet! Sterling's eyes immediately lit up with delight.
Sterling hadn't encountered talking magical creatures even in Avalon. Some animals were strange there; they could sing melodiously but just couldn't form words.
"Hello Robin, can you help me deliver letters?"
"Chirp! Delivering letters is owls' work. If Robin steals owls' jobs, owls will be eaten by humans for not earning money to buy food."
Robin's logic was both adorable and practical.
"That makes sense." Sterling found himself charmed by the little creature's earnest explanation.
"Can't die. Wow, that really does sound like the perfect experimental subject... no, companion abilities. With Robin, no more fear of testing potions and alchemical products."
Actually, Sterling didn't much care about this practical aspect. Robin was simply adorable, its feathers sparkling like scattered glitter, transitioning from brilliant blue to deep black. Just as an ornamental pet, it was wonderful.
"Chirp! Robin will be experimental subject. Robin can't die; Robin is stronger than phoenixes; Robin is the best companion."
Sterling had to admit, immortal partner material was indeed excellent.
"So shall we unwrap gifts together now?"
Sterling realised he could speak brief phrases without endangering the Mandrake leaf.
"I will." Such short words Sterling could manage without damaging his transformation.
But somehow he felt the letter demanded his attention first.
Before finishing reading, tears escaped his eyes unbidden, falling onto the familiar yet somehow strange handwriting like morning dew.
Sterling stroked the name on the envelope with trembling fingers.
"Sterling, I'll take you home."
"Why didn't you go home even for Christmas?"
"I forgot someone."
The bitter taste of crushed Mandrake filled his mouth as emotion overwhelmed him, but Sterling didn't care. He caressed that familiar yet strange name with growing recognition.
"Andrew Dept."
The name he'd been unconsciously searching for had been in his memory all along, but some force had been preventing him from recalling it, like a locked door in his mind.
Now he remembered. His editor, his first supporter, the person who'd first recognised his talent and nurtured his dreams.
"I've forgotten a very important person."
The realisation hit him with the force of a Bludger, and Sterling clutched the letter closer, feeling pieces of his past clicking back into place.