"The Emissary of Solitude will be unable to approach within five meters of Sterling Page."
This was Sterling's first time not "modifying" but "writing" reality. A massive amount of physical strength seeped from his body. If not for his physical condition improving almost daily since starting Animagus training, he'd probably faint now like when first awakening "Witness of the Author."
Even so, one modification and one writing left him unable to grip his wand properly. Only by leaning on thornless briars and dragging his body did he avoid collapsing to the ground.
Of course, Ron and Harry were stacked behind him—if he truly sat down, there'd be cushions.
Sterling kicked the dazed Ron. Not punished by the Emissary of Solitude, why wasn't he being useful?
After being kicked, Ron stared blankly at Sterling. It wasn't until he saw Sterling nod toward Harry that he finally understood, yelling and pouncing on Harry. Whether by accident or on purpose, he didn't remove his armor... The entire suit came down hard on Harry's stomach.
Poor Harry could barely catch his breath, his eyes bulging as if they'd pierce through his glasses.
"Ugh—" He made a strangled sound.
Sterling was sweating just watching. His own body naturally wouldn't be bothered by such weight, but Harry's chronically malnourished frame... Though he'd gained back quite a bit at Hogwarts, he still had what Hermione called a weakened constitution.
Even if they'd gotten him out safely, he'd probably need to spend an afternoon in the Hospital Wing. Sterling was certain that the "crack" he'd just heard wasn't his imagination.
But the effect was immediate—Harry couldn't be more alert.
"Ron?"
With drool still at the corners of his mouth, Harry turned his head stiffly, looking at Sterling.
"So it really is you, Sterling... I thought it was a new plot development."
"Oh, so you're actually viewing all this from an audience's perspective?"
Sterling talked with Harry while staying alert. The Emissary of Solitude—before Harry woke—had been slowly writhing, trying to approach them, but kept failing to advance due to the written reality. After Harry spoke, it became like a shut-down robot, completely motionless.
Its once-flowing purple surface solidified, becoming a dirty purplish-red. The three spots shrank until they were barely visible. The humanoid form it had taken degraded back to its original shape—the way they'd first seen it.
"Actually, I was—originally that mirror asked me to become 'Harry Potter' and take part in this... story."
"You obviously know this is just a story." Sterling raised an eyebrow—this was beyond his expectations.
He'd originally thought Harry was completely captivated by this story, identifying with this happy "Harry Potter." Even knowing the school and town Harry Potters were fakes, Sterling still thought so.
But back then, he'd assumed Harry Potter might be experiencing these fakes or mirror surfaces through some kind of dream state.
He didn't expect Harry to be fully aware.
"Yeah, I refused it. I just wanted a dream—a dream of how a happy Harry Potter would live."
"Harry—" Ron hugged Harry tearfully. This time Sterling was sure the idiot had forgotten, because he still hadn't removed his armor. The thick breastplate pressed down until Harry's vision darkened.
"Cough cough cough—Ron! Let me go!"
"You know this is a dream—so do you know that we, Hermione, Terry, Professor McGonagall, are all worried about you?"
Sterling spoke. Ron looked at him strangely—this wasn't what they'd planned when they came here.
They'd originally agreed Sterling was responsible for getting him and Hermione to Harry. As for persuading Harry, that task belonged to Ron and Hermione.
Though Hermione's whereabouts were currently unknown, Ron should still take over, right? He'd just hugged Harry, intending to naturally transition into talking with him, but Sterling wouldn't back down.
"I know."
"Then why would you do this?"
Sterling's eyes revealed genuine confusion. He truly couldn't understand—clearly knowing the consequences of this action, yet still doing it without leaving any backup plan?
If Harry had left even one note, they wouldn't have panicked for so long.
"Hey! Sterling!" Ron stopped Sterling. He'd just seen what a terrible past Harry had experienced—compared to that, being pranked by the twins and pressured by his older brothers couldn't even be called problems.
"I wanted to see Mom and Dad again, hear their voices. In the Mirror of Erised I could see them, but that was ultimately through a mirror."
Harry wiped his eyes roughly.
"I also know those aren't the real Mom and Dad, but they're the image I imagined after seeing the photo Hagrid gave me. Even knowing it's not real, I can't help wanting this momentary happiness."
"Even if it's false?"
"Even if it's false."
Sterling shook his head—he still couldn't understand. After seeing that fake "Andrew," he'd admittedly transferred some emotions, but he also maintained boundaries—never confusing real and fake.
To him, fake was fake.
"Then your initial plan? Just keep dreaming here?"
Harry's gaze drifted evasively.
"Not quite. Dreams always have to end—"
Sterling pretended not to notice the avoidance.
"Then when do you plan on waking?"
"When the last story concludes."
This time Harry's answer was resolute, making even Sterling take notice.
"Last story? You want Ron and me waiting here while you finish watching? Hermione's whereabouts are still unknown, and the professors are anxiously worrying about you at school—"
"It'll be very quick, Sterling."
Harry drew his wand. His body, injured twice by Ron's armor, actually recovered completely after white light flashed across it.
"Originally, this last act was about to begin—so I'm surprised you found me. Otherwise I would've gone out on my own soon."
Ron looked at Sterling with innocent eyes. Sterling shook his head, indicating he didn't know what Harry planned either.
However, Maleficent's Dragon was anticipating something.
"Witness of the Author" was also anticipating.
The book page in Sterling's mind suddenly trembled. The text "The Emissary of Solitude will be unable to approach within five meters of Sterling Page" slowly lifted from the paper, transforming into light particles that dissipated into nothing.
The previously blocked Emissary of Solitude also moved.
Rich black color climbed from bottom to top, instantly wrapping the entire creature, then spreading outward into thick black fog.
From the black fog extended a pale, skeletal hand, gripping a holly wood wand.
"Avada Kedavra—"