The first-years fell silent.
Lynn was deeply gratified.
Hogwarts’ educational methods remained simple and rustic.
First tell you that the world is unreliable, then let you adapt on your own.
Stephen added, “Don’t believe the portrait of the witch in the purple coat; she’ll point you toward an empty corridor on the seventh floor.
And don’t argue about poetry with the suit of armor on the third floor—it’ll sing until dawn.” Lynn asked, “If someone wanted to avoid curfew patrols, this info would be quite useful too, wouldn’t it?” Penelope turned her head.
Lynn’s expression was entirely innocent.
“I’m just saying, knowing where the danger lies helps one stay away from it.” “Mr.
Grey,” Penelope said.
“You sound very much like the type who would memorize the school rules backwards just to find loopholes in the gray areas.” “A misunderstanding,” Lynn said.
“My parents want me to be a law-abiding child.” Stephen burst out laughing.
“That phrase usually means he’ll first confirm which rules aren’t written clearly enough.” The way several older students looked at Lynn changed.
It wasn’t wariness.
It was more like confirming that an interesting new student had arrived.
Lynn shut his mouth at the right moment.
Being too silver-tongued would draw too much attention.
Just making people willing to chat with you was the most stable start.
Midway, they passed a huge tapestry depicting an eagle.
Penelope stopped and pointed to a side path.
“This way leads to the small reading room.
It can be used before ten in the evening.
Inside, there are old timetables, a few reference books left by professors, and some graduates’ notes.
Don’t bring food in, don’t write your name in the books, and don’t try to take them away.
The last person who did that was chased all the way to the stairwell by the bookshelf.” The first-years’ faces tightened.
But Lynn heard the key points.
Old timetables.
Professors’ reference books.
Graduates’ notes.
What a wonderful place.
High-year timetables, professors’ habits, course difficulties, Restricted Section borrowing trends—many things didn’t require risking eavesdropping.
Sitting in the reading room and listening to a few night-owl students complain was more than enough.
He looked at Stephen.
“Are there notes related to Ancient Runes there?” Stephen immediately perked up.
“Yes, though a few copies have been borrowed.
If you’re interested, I can take you there tomorrow afternoon to look for them.” Penelope glanced at him.
“Tomorrow afternoon, the first-years need to familiarize themselves with the courses and the common room.” “I’m just guiding him,” Stephen said.
“That doesn’t violate any rules.” Lynn was quick to follow up.
“No rush.
I should learn my way around during the first week.
I don’t want to deliver myself right to Filch just to look for notes.” Penelope nodded.
Stephen sighed.
“You’re more cautious than you look.” “Thank you,” Lynn said.
“This is probably just Muggle-born survival experience.” This sentence lightly unveiled his identity, only to cover it back up just as quickly.
In the line, a tall, thin boy glanced at him.
The boy’s robes were made of fine material, with an old silver buckle on his cuff that was polished to a high sheen.
His hand rested beside the silver buckle the entire time, as if afraid others wouldn’t see it, yet also afraid they would look for too long.
Lynn had noticed him for a long time.
Ever since Stephen mentioned a Muggle family, this boy had pursed his lips three times.
He wasn’t like Malfoy, who wore his arrogance plainly on his face.
He was more cautious, and more concerned with keeping up appearances.
This kind of person wouldn’t curse at you on the spot.
Instead, he would present a riddle, letting you trip yourself up.
They finally reached the end of the spiral staircase.
A door blocked the way ahead.
The door panel was dark with age-worn marks around the edges, having no handle and no keyhole.
In the center of the door was a bronze eagle knocker with clearly defined feathers, its head hanging low.
The first-years quieted down.
Penelope walked up and raised her hand to tap the eagle knocker.
The bronze eagle knocker opened its eyes.
“What is it,” it spoke, “that the more it divides people, the more it links them together?” The first-years looked at one another.
Someone said, “A bridge.” Someone said, “A road.” Someone else said, “A secret.” Penelope didn’t rush to answer.
She turned to look at the first-years.
“Who wants to try?” Stephen crossed his arms, clearly prepared to enjoy the show.
Lynn hadn’t planned to stand out.
Answering a riddle to get in on the first day was too easy to be remembered.
But before he could step back, the tall, thin boy spoke up.
“Doesn’t Grey have great insights into Ancient Runes?
Why not let him try?” The corridor grew slightly quieter.
These words weren’t heavy, but they had thorns.
A classic Ravenclaw-style push onto the stage.
*Aren’t you smart?* *Come on, prove it.* Penelope frowned.
“Bradley, first-years don’t need to answer on their first night.” Bradley touched the old silver buckle on his cuff.
“It’s just a question.
Our house doesn’t fear questions, does it?” He looked at Lynn, his tone very polite.
“Besides, Mr.
Grey put it so well.
Ancient magic leaves signposts, and Muggle-borns have their survival experiences.
Surely, someone like that wouldn’t be afraid of a door.” A few first-years looked at Lynn.
The smile on Stephen’s face faded slightly, but he didn’t intervene.
He was waiting to see what Lynn would choose.
Lynn looked at the bronze eagle knocker.
Refusing would allow him to maintain a low profile.
But it would leave an impression of backing down.
Answering too brilliantly would make him stand out too much.
The most appropriate way was to give an answer that would let them through the door without stealing the spotlight entirely.
He took half a step forward.
“I can try,” Lynn said.
“But if I answer incorrectly, I hope the door doesn’t hold a grudge.
I’ve climbed a lot of stairs today.” The bronze eagle knocker looked at him.
“Doors do not hold grudges.
Humans are much better at that.” Stephen couldn’t help but chuckle.
“It likes you.” Lynn didn’t respond.
He said to the knocker, “The answer might be ‘a question.'” The eagle knocker didn’t open the door yet.
Bradley raised an eyebrow slightly.
“A question divides people?” Lynn turned to him, his tone still calm.
“The same question causes people to give different answers.
Because the answers are different, people are divided.
But it is also because of that same question that they sit down together to discuss it.
Just like now.” Bradley’s hand touching the silver buckle froze.
The first-years caught on and burst into quiet laughter.
Penelope looked at the eagle knocker, a look of approval appearing on her face.
Stephen clapped his hands once.
“That’s a good answer.
Clever enough, and cheeky enough.” Lynn nodded seriously.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” The bronze eagle knocker made a soft sound.
The door swung open.
Warm light spilled out from behind the door.
The circular common room was revealed before everyone.
High windows, blue and bronze hangings, bookshelves lining the walls, and tables piled with quills, parchment, and half-finished wizard chess sets.
Near the fireplace sat a blue teacup with a dried ring of milk clinging to the rim, clearly left behind by someone who had rushed off in a hurry.
The first-years let out hushed gasps of awe.
The minor conflict from moments ago was instantly washed away by the joy of entering.
Bradley didn’t say another word.
He avoided Lynn as he walked through the door, his fingers returning to the old silver buckle to rub it a couple of times.
Penelope passed by Lynn and whispered, “Well handled.” “I was just lucky.” “Ravenclaws don’t really believe in that.” “Then let’s just say I’m good at listening to questions.” Penelope looked at him for a moment but didn’t call him out.
Stephen leaned in amidst the commotion and lowered his voice.
“Bradley’s family has some old connections.
Not top-tier pure-bloods, but they care a lot about it.
He doesn’t like Muggle-born first-years being remembered by the older students too quickly, especially when you carry the name Grey.” Lynn watched Bradley stop in front of a bookshelf, pretending to study an upside-down book.
“I didn’t target him.” “Yeah,” Stephen said.
“You just let everyone know that he asked a question that helped you get through the door.” Lynn didn’t deny it.
This was the most effortless counterattack.
The opponent handed him a blade, but he didn’t need to swing it.
It was enough to simply let the hilt point toward himself.
As for who the blade stabbed, that was just a matter of angles.
Penelope clapped her hands in the center of the common room.
“The boys’ dormitories are up the stairs on the left, and the girls’ are on the right.
You may use the common room at night, but do not argue loudly, and especially do not discuss the twelve uses of dragon’s blood at three in the morning.
Someone actually did that once and was ultimately thrown out by three seventh-years acting together.” The first-years laughed.
Lynn stood at the back of the crowd, scanning the common room.
*Bookshelves.
Fireplace.
Windowsills.
A few tables against the walls.
The distances from the door to each set of stairs.
The spots visible to the portraits.
Who liked to sit by the fireplace, who was used to taking the window seats.* *The tables by the window offer a view of the door, with a wall at one’s back.* *By the fireplace is good for blending into the crowd, but it’s too noisy.* *The single armchairs in the shadows of the bookshelves are perfect for reading, and also for listening to older students complain about professors.* He quickly chose his spot.
The Ravenclaw common room was his first Spectator seat in Hogwarts.
Just then, the bronze eagle knocker on the door made another soft sound.
The whispers in the common room died down.
Penelope turned around.
Stephen also turned back.
The door had clearly already closed.
Yet, the bronze eagle knocker slowly rotated on the inside of the door, its gaze passing over everyone and settling on Lynn.
“A follow-up question, Lynn Grey.” Lynn raised his eyes, the smile on his face never fading.
Inside his sleeve, his hawthorn wand pressed against his palm.
The bronze eagle knocker asked: “When a castle begins to watch a person, should he first believe his own eyes, or first doubt his own shadow?”