“Suspect the person who asked the question first.” After Lynn finished speaking, the tension in the Ravenclaw common room, which had just begun to ease, was instantly dragged back by the bronze eagle knocker.
Penelope’s list of first-years froze in mid-air.
Stephen leaned against the bookshelf, the blue ink on his cuff not yet wiped clean, but the words died in his throat.
Bradley stood behind the first-years, his hand slipping off his old silver button, his dignified expression nearly cracking.
The bronze eagle knocker did not rule his answer right or wrong.
It spun halfway on the inside of the door panel, its metal edges scraping against the wood.
The fireplace was still burning, but a draft of cold air seeped through the crack in the door.
A few first-years who had just taken off their outer robes pulled their collars back tight.
Lynn stood at the back of the crowd, his hand still resting against his cuff.
The hawthorn wand pressed flat against his palm, unusually quiet.
That was the real trouble.
Ollivander had warned him that if his wand showed him things he shouldn’t see or started dreaming for him, he should come find him immediately.
The wand hadn’t moved now, but the knocker calling him out by name for an extra question was abnormal in itself.
A normal Ravenclaw knocker wouldn’t corner first-years in the common room to keep testing them after they had already entered.
This wasn’t a welcome.
It felt more like a registration.
Lynn sighed inwardly.
Other people looked for their beds on their first night; he was being interrogated by a door.
Hogwarts certainly knew how to arrange things.
Penelope took a step forward, lowering her voice.
“Eagle knocker, the first-years have already answered the riddle to enter.
Extra questions are not on tonight’s schedule.” The bronze eagle knocker turned to her.
“Ravenclaw does not reject questions.” “Nor should Ravenclaw keep eleven-year-old children standing here in the middle of the night.” Penelope rolled up her list tightly.
“They have to find their way around tomorrow.” Stephen raised his hand to chime in.
“And to add to that, if they get lost, Filch will pick them up.
Filch doesn’t do refunds.” Someone let out a chuckle but quickly shut up.
Because the bronze eagle knocker was still staring at Lynn.
“When a castle begins to watch a person, should he trust his eyes first, or suspect his shadow first?” Lynn didn’t answer immediately.
The question hit too precisely.
He lived by observation.
Tone, pauses, finger movements, and malice hidden behind politeness—none of it escaped his judgment.
Yet, starting from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the gray handprints, the knocking on the compartment door, the message in the notebook, the Sorting Hat, the castle’s gaze—one thing after another reminded him that Hogwarts could see far more than he thought.
If he only trusted what he saw, he might be led astray by the castle.
If he suspected himself first, it would be equivalent to handing a knife to the questioner.
Lynn looked up, his tone steady.
“Neither should be done first.” Bradley lightly touched his silver button.
“Does that count as dodging the question?” Lynn didn’t look at him, addressing only the knocker.
“First, confirm what this gaze wants me to see, and what it wants me to ignore.” The common room fell silent.
Lynn continued, “Eyes can be misled, and shadows can be altered by light.
What truly should be suspected is the question forcing a choice between the two.” Stephen muttered in a low voice, “Incredible.
He even broke down the question itself.” Penelope looked at Lynn, her expression turning slightly complex.
A moment ago, she had been worried about the first-year being targeted by the knocker; now she was starting to worry if this first-year was a bit too good at picking on the knocker.
The bronze eagle knocker fell silent for a moment.
“Cautious, not blindly compliant.
Fit for Ravenclaw.” Just as a few first-years let out a sigh of relief, it spoke again: “But this is not the final question.” Penelope’s face darkened.
“That’s enough.” The knocker ignored her.
The sound of latches clicking locked came from the direction of the boys’ dormitories.
The same happened on the girls’ side.
Penelope walked over and tried to push it, but it wouldn’t open.
Stephen tried the boys’ dormitory door as well, then turned back and shrugged.
“Good news: tonight is very fair.” Penelope glared at him.
Stephen immediately corrected himself: “Bad news: everyone’s locked in.” The first-years began to grow uneasy.
Some huddled closer to the fireplace clutching their outer robes, while others muttered complaints.
In the quiet common room, drowsiness and irritation began to build.
Bradley stood at the back of the crowd, his expression actually easing up slightly.
Lynn saw right through it.
Bradley didn’t want to be trapped, but he wanted even less for a Muggle-born first-year to be remembered by the entire house.
Even if it meant freezing along with everyone else, he still wanted to watch the other guy fail.
Human pettiness is sometimes remarkably simple.
The bronze eagle knocker asked, “Which perishes first: time, or truth?” Nobody laughed this time.
Penelope was the first to answer.
“Time does not perish.
It is recorded, perceived, and can even be disrupted by magic.
Truth does not perish either; it is only discovered later.” The knocker said, “You treat time as a river and truth as a stone.
A river will divert; a stone will erode.” Penelope fell silent.
Stephen picked up, “Many things considered correct in the past were later overthrown.
That means truth perishes first, while time remains.” The knocker said, “What was overthrown was not the correct answer, but merely an incomplete judgment.” Stephen grit his teeth.
“Fine, you’re being extremely strict tonight.” Several upperclassmen tried a few more times.
One spoke of Time-Turners, another of the History of Magic, and a seventh-year even recited a passage of magical philosophy.
The knocker only replied, “You have memorized it well, but you did not answer the question.” The seventh-year shut his mouth on the spot.
Impatience began to pile up in the common room.
Lynn still didn’t speak.
He was observing.
The first question asked about the gaze.
The second asked about time and truth.
Neither could escape the concept of witnessing.
The one who sees, the one who records, the one who asks.
The Ravenclaw knocker wouldn’t understand the pathway he carried, but it was a part of Hogwarts.
It had sensed something abnormal, so it was testing where he stood.
Not testing his intelligence, but how he viewed the world.
That was the real trouble.
Bradley finally spoke up.
“Mr.
Grey answered so well just now.
Why not invite him to try this one as well?” Penelope turned her head.
“Bradley.” Bradley nodded politely.
“We’re all trapped.
Since the eagle knocker called his name before, perhaps it wants to hear his answer.” The words were delivered beautifully, and the trap was laid smoothly.
Several first-years looked at Lynn—not pressuring him, but rather looking for help.
Lynn let out a soft sigh.
Fine.
When you don’t want to stand out, someone always shines a spotlight right in your face.
Keep it brief, then.
He walked over, stopping three paces in front of the eagle knocker.
His wand remained hidden in his sleeve.
Penelope warned in a low voice, “Don’t force yourself.
The knocker won’t actually keep us locked out all night.” Stephen added, “At most, it’ll keep us here until it gets bored.
Unfortunately, they usually have much more patience than students.” Lynn nodded.
“I’ll do my best to make sure we don’t have to learn how to sleep on the common room floor on our first night.” Several first-years gave nervous chuckles.
The knocker asked, “Lynn Grey, your answer?” Lynn said, “Neither perishes first.” Bradley’s hand touched his silver button again.
Lynn continued, “If time truly vanished, there would be no one to discuss it.
If truth truly perished, it wouldn’t become false just because no one remembers it.
What disappears is neither time nor truth.” He paused.
The murmuring in the common room died down completely.
Lynn said, “What disappears is the onlooker who asks the question.” Several upperclassmen by the fireplace froze.
The list in Penelope’s hand drooped.
Stephen stared at Lynn, the trace of a joke completely gone from his face.
The bronze eagle knocker said nothing either.
Lynn felt a tightening deep in his mind.
Not fear, but the discomfort of ancient magic probing him.