"Gryffindor idiots, are you planning to create unprecedented zero house points by this semester's end? Besides showing off your overdeveloped limbs every day, what else do you do? Perhaps you should learn from trolls—because you use wands like clubs!"
"Cunning snakes, if that greasy old bat wasn't always giving you special treatment, do you think your points could reach double digits? Oh wait, underhanded dealing is Slytherin house culture—because you have no real talent, only connections!"
"Oh, it's starting again." Terry raised his book to block himself, attempting to reduce his presence.
Gryffindors and Slytherins quickly descended into a chaotic brawl. Madam Pince hurried over, shooting sparks, but it had no effect. She had to use Stunning Spells to quiet these library troublemakers.
Her sharp eyes looked at the books shattered by their disputes, and she immediately burst into tears. She hugged those precious fragments, rushing toward her work desk, not even bothering to dock points.
Hogwarts professors weren't docking points much anymore.
Docking house points was a punishment meant to make students feel ashamed. When students no longer considered it shameful, it couldn't count as punishment—and it was a waste of breath.
Other students dragged them back to their house common rooms. After this disruption, Terry lost his reading mood but didn't want to return to Ravenclaw common room either.
There should currently be a "strike Slytherin or Gryffindor first" war council underway—initiated by Prefect Robert, a staunch Gryffindor faction opponent.
Because yesterday Wood had thoroughly disparaged Ravenclaw's Quidditch team to dust, saying Robert couldn't catch Bludgers thrown by toddlers and that Ravenclaw's Keeper had worse reflexes than a hundred-and-thirty-year-old crone.
Terry packed his things, looking at the other students whose expressions were impossible to read. He knew—precedent had just been set. The Hogwarts library had become a battleground as well.
"Terry—come out!"
Padma waved at the library entrance. He ran over. Padma showed him a relieved smile.
"Professor McGonagall agreed. Hogwarts will temporarily close tomorrow."
"Under what pretext? My suggested 'campus environment maintenance'?"
"No." Padma shook her head. "Professor McGonagall made no explanation. As Deputy Headmistress, she has this authority, but only for up to a week. Anything longer requires Board of Governors consultation."
"I see."
Though his suggestion had been adopted, Terry's heart grew more uneasy—as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff with the abyss yawning before him and nowhere to go but forward.
"Can't the time be moved earlier?"
Padma shook her head. "Professor McGonagall didn't tell me, but I think not—Hogwarts Express staff obviously aren't always available."
"Then we—what is that?!"
Terry rushed to the window, shocked to see fireworks shooting skyward. They exploded at high altitude, displaying a lion killing a snake.
"Fred Weasley!"
He heard deafening roars, then several spells instantly exploded on the fireworks, completely disrupting them.
"Padma, immediately go to the Potions office—to Sterling and the others—take this!"
Terry tore off his bracelet, tossing it to Padma.
His heart had never beaten this fast, like war drums pounding urgent rhythms.
Terry recalled this morning's prophecy—
"Fireworks invite disaster; darkness extends claws."
Fireworks had appeared.
Then how long until disaster—or had it already happened?!
"Wait—Terry, what are you doing?!"
Padma caught the bracelet. Terry jumped from the stairs without looking back—no time waiting for stairs to properly turn.
"Glisseo!" The Sliding Spell. An obscure one. Terry rolled across the ground, immediately grimacing.
He'd seen Sterling do this before; otherwise, he'd originally wanted to add Levitation Charm to his robes to lift himself. It looked like, without others' physiques, you shouldn't randomly imitate their stunts.
Currently on the second floor—he'd just skipped the third floor entirely.
Just as he stood up, not yet stable, a broomstick shot arrow-like past him, nearly knocking him over.
In the castle corridors? Broomsticks?
Right, what use were school rules now?
Terry steadied himself. That broomstick was very fast, seemingly unafraid of hitting people. He only glimpsed a bit of red hair.
Then came a thunderous series of footsteps. A massive green mass stampeded over, completely treating Terry as nothing. The leader was Flint, his eyes covered with a crimson sheen.
"Malfoy squad, take first years to immediately catch those little pests—these two slippery little rats are hard to catch, so don't blame me for venting on their juniors!"
"Received!"
Immediately a small group left the pack, descending stairs from another direction.
Terry followed up. He'd originally wanted to ask Malfoy about the situation, but he and all the Slytherins obviously didn't want to tell this Ravenclaw anything.
Draco glanced at him. Terry was startled—his eyes also seemed to hide that crimson tint.
First-year Gryffindors—Neville!
Terry immediately pulled out his badge, pressing "5", representing Neville. It displayed a series of busy tones. After a long while, Neville's voice came through.
"Terry? What's wrong?"
Neville's voice was accompanied by very rapid breathing. Terry could faintly hear pained cries from his end.
"What are you doing?"
"Hufflepuff suddenly attacked us—they said their Cedric was caught in Gryffindor-Slytherin crossfire and is now lying in the Hospital Wing—Expelliarmus—so they're retaliating against us. Besides us, they have another group hunting Slytherins. They have so many people!"
Between gaps in speaking, Neville cast a Disarming Charm. That charging young wizard's wand suddenly flew up. Seamus immediately used a Stunning Spell, making him fall.
But Hufflepuffs still had overwhelming numbers—because their team also included two second years.
Neville hung up, facing second-year seniors without the confidence to duel whilst chatting with Terry.
"Beep—beep—beep—"
Looking at the busy-toning badge, Terry's expression darkened.
Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff.
Now only Ravenclaw hadn't—
"Walk faster! That coward Wood is blocked by Slytherins at the Great Hall! We must get there immediately!"
Robert appeared before Terry alongside the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team.
"Prefect Robert!"
Terry called out to him. He stopped but let the others continue rushing ahead.
"Are you going to attack Wood? But Professor McGonagall will be furious. Ravenclaw this year could've won the House Cup—"
"Enough, Terry. I know you're not like Hermione. No need putting on her act to persuade me."
Robert waved, cutting Terry off.
"It won't work—this is our common room's collective decision."
"We Ravenclaws are eagles soaring the skies. If it's just ordinary mockery and insults, we won't mind—Ravenclaw values individuality! Just let us immerse ourselves in what we like. If such behaviour invites alienation or violence, as long as it's not targeting what we're fascinated by, we can turn a blind eye—"
"But this also means we absolutely won't remain passive when the things we're fascinated by suffer insult and threat!"
"Ravenclaws are all bookworms? It's time to tell those stupid lions, snakes, badgers—the Duelling Tournament champion is our Ravenclaw Head!"
Robert vigorously waved his wand, no longer paying Terry any mind, rushing toward the Great Hall.
His eyes were bloodshot as well.
Excellent. Ravenclaw had also joined the battlefield.
And not just this group. According to Terry's understanding of his house, they'd entered "an eye for an eye" mode.
Unlike the other three houses, even if Ravenclaw participated, they'd only fight individually. Perhaps someday Sterling could unite these self-centred eagles—but for now, no one could rally them together.
Terry took a deep breath, planning to make one last effort at the Great Hall.
He was the person coordinating with house prefects during their joint petitions. If he could reach consensus with Hufflepuff's prefect, using Hufflepuff's numbers, they might suppress either Gryffindor or Slytherin.
Absolutely, absolutely couldn't let a four-house melee begin—
"Impossible."
Under Terry's expectant gaze, Sycamore rejected his proposal flatly.
"Hufflepuff was never synonymous with weakness. Usually we restrain our edge, but if even our family members are harmed without reaction, we might as well change our house emblem badger to a pig!"
"Cedric is our most outstanding student—even though he's still young, we, all Hufflepuffs, know he's the most Hufflepuff-like! Now he's lying in the Hospital Wing because of his kindness!"
"Absolutely intolerable, absolutely unforgivable!"
He clenched his fists. Then from his wand shot the Great Hall's first spell—a Stunning Spell hitting Flint, who'd been confronting Wood.
The next moment, colourful spells immediately exploded throughout the entire hall.
Sycamore first cast Protego on Terry, then used Knockback Jinx, driving him from the hall—the hall was fifth year and up's battlefield.
Just after casting Knockback Jinx, he was hit by a Disarming Charm from Catesby's wand. She was Ravenclaw's seventh-year female prefect, her normally gentle eyes filled with crimson fury.
"That's Ravenclaw's first year! You actually attacked a first year—Hufflepuff virtue—no, human decency—do you not care at all?! Sycamore!"
Terry urgently tried defending Sycamore, but he'd been sent outside. Sycamore and Catesby at the hall's centre couldn't hear his shouts.
He didn't know whose wand shot "Incendio", or perhaps many wands all shot flames simultaneously.
Either way, the hall began burning.
Terry immediately wanted to use Sonorus to warn them, but quickly, the flames disappeared—this had been his illusion.
Or rather, the future he'd glimpsed.
"Terry! Why are you here!"
Professor McGonagall's voice sounded angelic to Terry. He turned joyfully but saw McGonagall's obviously dishevelled hair and slightly cracked glasses.
"Professor McGonagall, what happened to you—"
"Just now over a dozen mountain trolls entered the castle—Vitam and I just dealt with them all—strange! Hogwarts' defensive wards couldn't possibly let such things in!"
McGonagall irritably waved her wand. Passing Terry, she saw the pandemonium inside the hall and became so angry her hands trembled.
She raised her wand, originally wanting to directly use Finite Incantatem—but unfortunately, her magic power had been consumed too much just now. Forcing it might not cover the entire hall.
In that case, for young wizards using spells to duel each other, it would be nearly catastrophic.
McGonagall caught her breath, planning to separate them one by one.
Just then, a scene flashed before Terry's eyes.
A tall figure wrapped in black robes, gliding smoothly across the ground, picking up something in a dim chamber.
It was a deep red gemstone, faintly showing firelight within—the Philosopher's Stone!
"Professor McGonagall!" Terry immediately grabbed McGonagall's sleeve, looking at her with determined eyes.
"Voldemort—Voldemort will definitely try to steal the Philosopher's Stone at this moment!"
"They haven't completely lost their senses—there won't be any deaths; at most they'll lie in the Hospital Wing for months—but Voldemort! He's definitely already inside!"
Terry shouted anxiously. McGonagall was obviously persuaded. After a moment's thought, three Patronuses surged from her wand tip.
"Pomona, immediately come to the Great Hall. Temporarily release those lower year disputes. Upper years here need you and Flitwick to cast Finite together."
"Filius, come to the Hall—I've already called Pince and Pomfrey to collect and protect injured young wizards. Now I need you coordinating with Pomona to resolve the upper year situation."
"Severus—come to the fourth floor corridor."
Three tabby cats immediately scattered. Professor McGonagall sternly looked at Terry.
"You stay here—I absolutely cannot allow you to go anywhere you might encounter Voldemort."
Terry nodded. He wasn't a reckless lion either.
"Can I go to Sterling, Harry and the others? I had Padma go protect them first, but I'm worried some Gryffindor lower years might assault the Potions office."
Professor McGonagall's eyes showed doubt.
"You're certain you're capable—going to the dungeons at a time like this, and you can resist second years, even third years?"
"I'm very certain." Terry showed a confident expression.
"I'm Sterling's best friend—and the friend who has learnt the most magic from him."