Here, Harry didn’t need to go out of his way to seek danger just to gain knowledge.
It was a rare privilege.
Especially when it came to “mysterious knowledge”—out on the open seas, such secrets were only bought with lives.
Every treasure, every piece of intelligence, and every direction carried a promise of peril.
Arriving at the lawn near the greenhouses, Harry spotted his classmates.
A group of young wizards sat in tidy rows beneath a tree with purple leaves.
Of course, students from another house were present as well.
Their very first class of the term was Herbology, shared between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, as evidenced by the house crests pinned to their chests.
“Hey, Harry, where’d you go so early this morning? You were already gone when I woke up,” Ernie said, running over first with a tinge of dissatisfaction in his tone.
Trailing behind him were Justin and Wayne—who, together with Ernie, made up Harry’s three roommates.
“I’m an early riser,” Harry replied.
“Found a spot to eat breakfast, then practiced a few spells.”
The dissatisfaction on Ernie’s face softened slightly.
“Oh! You, er… you’re quite hardworking! But Harry, I hope we can do things together sometimes. Cedric came looking for you this morning, but you weren’t there. He almost thought we were isolating you—which we clearly aren’t! Oh, and the newspaper you subscribed to arrived. We put it on your nightstand for you…”
Harry helplessly followed him, walking over toward the tree.
Then, a realization struck him.
He hadn’t expected that even after arriving at Hogwarts Castle, the newspaper Professor Snape had helped him subscribe to would continue delivering uninterrupted.
He just didn’t know how long the subscription was for—was it an annual plan?
It was worth noting that the entire first-year Hufflepuff contingent was accounted for following his arrival.
The Gryffindor students, on the other hand, appeared sparse and scattered, few in number.
“They must have gone night-wandering! I heard Gryffindor is the house that loves night-wandering the most—every term, students lose dozens of points for it!”
“It’s only the first day—maybe they just got lost. Surely the Gryffindor upperclassmen wouldn’t lead them out on night walks!”
“Did the Gryffindor upperclassmen fail to give them maps?”
The little badgers whispered among themselves.
Harry was deeply relieved he hadn’t chosen Gryffindor.
Otherwise, when he went to sleep last night, his roommates might not have lowered their voices like Ernie and the others to avoid disturbing him.
They might have dragged him straight out of bed to join them on a night walk instead.
Why go wandering at night?
Could they not move about the castle during the day? New chapters come out on g.com first.
If they were upperclassmen, they might have specific motives—much like venturing into the Restricted Section.
Doing something forbidden at night because the professors forbade it during the day made sense.
But for a first-year wizard, what was the appeal of night-wandering?
They’d be better off getting a good night’s sleep so they could grow taller.
Of course, part of his reasoning stemmed from that subtle sensation he had picked up in the Great Hall last night.
Under such a dangerous intuition, Harry would never place himself in harm’s way for the sake of mere momentary amusement.
“Harry! What is he doing?”
“Maybe he’s using some kind of magic we don’t know about.”
“But I didn’t hear him recite an incantation. Oh right, he knows nonverbal magic—I remember it was mentioned in Charms Today…”
First, a group of little lions took notice of Harry.
Then, the Hufflepuff badgers noticed as well.
Together, they stared curiously at Harry’s movements, discussing them in hushed voices.
“But my dad told me nonverbal spells are part of the fifth-year curriculum.”
“No! Sixth year!”
“It’s seventh year!”
They watched as Harry crouched beneath the tree, using the very tip of his wand to gently touch the trunk beside him, whispering animatedly.
Amidst the chatter, a confident female voice rang out.
“Actually, nonverbal spells aren’t a mandatory course—they’re a form of assessment, part of the N.E.W.T. exams, the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. Generally speaking, most wizards at school aim to pass their O.W.L.s—Ordinary Wizarding Levels—and then stay the full seven years to graduate and start working. They can’t complete N.E.W.T.s, which are advanced coursework…”
The brown-haired girl stood at the front of the crowd, offering a firm explanation, speaking loudly as if specifically targeting a listener.
Did Harry hear her?
Of course he did.
At such a close distance, there was no reason he wouldn’t.
Yet his attention remained anchored to the tree.
It was not a tree imbued with magic—just an ordinary Scots pine from the Muggle world.
However, as Professor Snape had put it, most of the time when wizards brewed potions, crafted wands, or… the materials involved weren’t necessarily magical.
They could easily be ordinary things in the eyes of Muggles, yet their “color” could only be seen by a wizard.
“This is an ancient Copper Beech—it is over four hundred years old. Perhaps when it first sprouted, it was back in the sixteenth century. It cannot speak, but time has left its marks upon it…”
Calling it “color” was a romantic notion.
Professor Snape always held a peculiar sentimentality toward such strangely abstract concepts.
Harry knew it wasn’t actual color, but a feeling.
Just as he now felt this tree was a Scots pine, over four hundred years old.
Yet he wasn’t necessarily correct.
Perhaps it wasn’t a Copper Beech at all, but a Bird Cherry, a Norway Maple, or a Cherry Plum…
The same applied to its age—it wasn’t strictly over four hundred years old.
This was merely Harry’s perception, and perception could be flawed.
Only those who studied magic deeply enough, honing their perception over long stretches of time, could allow their bodies to develop a sensory faculty unique to magical power.
Only a wizard like that could achieve true precision.
Such a sense was immensely helpful in Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, or even working as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts…
Though there existed a spell that could grant a brief, crude approximation of it—Revelio.
That was material taught in the third year.
And it was exceedingly crude.
Class time arrived quickly.
The Gryffindor lions returned to gather under their own tree, and at Ernie’s gentle nudge, Harry opened his eyes, withdrew his wand, and sat down beside them.
“So, what were you doing just now?” Justin couldn’t help asking.
Harry glanced at him.
“…Trying to talk to the tree.”
Instantly, the eyes of Justin, Ernie, and the other eavesdropping badgers nearby widened in shock.
They broke into hushed, excited whispers once more, and a few even mimicked him, leaning close to the trunk to mutter under their breath.
‘These kids are so easy to fool.’
Harry watched the scene with amused satisfaction.
“Hello, young wizards—”
A round, gentle voice resounded before the crowd.
Professor Sprout stood between the two trees wearing a patched, worn hat, a fringe of greyish-white curly hair peeking out from beneath its brim.